


Sincerely, your Guardian Angel, A.Z Fell

by dy_n_m



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Az guarding over Crowley as one does, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Excessive use of Capital Letters because I can, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Stalking behavior, The horsepeople had turned into the horsefamily and I have no complain, i just think they're neat, that lessen when they actually talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-06-28 18:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dy_n_m/pseuds/dy_n_m
Summary: Demons weren’t supposed to have Guardian Angel assigned to them, that was a human-only thing as far as Crowley knew. Hell, getting a Guardian Angel was a rare thing and he was a demon!So why did he feel the angelic presence tracing his steps and watching him in his sleep without attacking him?





	1. In which there was a request

**Author's Note:**

> I have one too many plot bunnies for GO, and well, the best way to deal with them is to write them out! Hope you'll enjoy this ^^

When God watched Adam and Eve walked out of Eden with nothing to protect themselves, She frowned. Her two humans were supposed to have a flaming sword according to Her Plan, so where was it?

She checked over her four Guardian Angels of the four gates, and they all had their swords in hand, the flame lighting up the cherubic features nicely. This was new, this was not in The Plan. But She could be flexible, and so She smiled even if her angels couldn’t see it, and commanded them to watch over the humans. 

“Protect them, guide them, but don’t interfere too much with their actions. Free will should never be interfered with.” She said, before sending the four off to the world. 

And so she had four Guardian Angels, their objective was still protecting, it was just protecting humans from other dangers besides demon. She watched as Albim guided Adam’s and Eve’s children, watched as Aniel whispered pieces of advice into the dream of the human. She watched as Ahajael circled around the children, protecting them from evil spirits.

And then there was Aziraphale. 

‘This was the one that was supposed to give away his sword,’ She realized, remembering her old discarded plan. This angel had surprised Her once, and She had put it down as an accident, a mere blip in Her grand plan. But twice now, and this was no coincident anymore.

Aziraphale took a look at humanity, shrugged and flew over to a demon. And not just any demon, The Demon, the Serpent of Eden, Her Crawly. She heard that he went by Crowley by now though, heard that from Aziraphale’s reports and miracles. 

When Aziraphale first brought the idea up to Her, God was understandably surprised. The conversation remained livid in her mind, as did all things really, but this conversation was one of many highlights throughout the millennials. 

“Umm, G-God?” He asked, stuttering and tripping over his word. “So, uh, you know how you sent us down here to help with the human? Well of course you’d know, you’re God, sorry...” 

“Yes, Aziraphale?” She gave him a light push, tone as patience as ever. 

“Uh...what if I don’t want to watch over a human?” He rushed out, “Not that I don’t want to quit my job, I like being a Guardian Angel. But–”

She paused, lost for words. He took it as a sign to go on. “Well see, I saw this demon. Well, he was with the Noah’s at the time, and uh, he was not like the other demons I suppose? He was actually angry when he found out you were also killing children, and He...I keep an eye out for him for the next few years.”

“And what did you see in him, Aziraphale?” She asked, curious.

“I see the love in him, love for humanity. I see him doing good deeds under the guise of evil, causing more good than not. And I see Hell’s breathing down his neck–” here, he looked protective, and there was a fire in his eyes that rivaled his own sword, “and I see myself guarding him.”

His voice got softer as it reached the last sentence, and the words were almost a whisper, a confession. 

She glanced at her Ineffable Plan, the future carefully laid out despite the human’s and now Aziraphale’s unpredictable action. It was a meticulous plan, all details accurate to a T, and all was about to be changed. She took a long time to form an answer, though to Aziraphale it was less than a second.

“You are free to guard over the demon, Aziraphale.” She decided, watching the timelines rearrange itself as her words taken its effect.

“Oh! Oh, thank God!” He paused, then chuckled at what he just said. “W-Well, I’ll be going now. Got a demon to guard, after all, so uh, bye.” 

God watched as Aziraphale unraveled his wings, flapping it and taking off to where Crowley was. Funny, she thought, how he only revealed two instead of the however many pairs She had given the Guardian. It would be the wings that would aid Aziraphale in the future, and he would soar. 

_ No, and they would soar.  _


	2. In which a frog was boiled (kinda)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here come the stalking part of this story. No, I'm not romanticising or glorifying the act of stalking, no don't be like Az in here, no don't break in anyone's house and watch them sleep, please don't. Respect other people and only act when consent has been given.

If you dropped a frog in a pot of boiling water, it would naturally frantically try to jump out. But if you placed it gently in a pot of tepid water and slowly turned the heat up, it would float there quite peacefully. 

* * *

Patience was a virtue, and Aziraphale got plenty of patience. He didn’t mind waiting and prefer to take things slow and steady. After all, that was how you win the race, or in this case, the demon. 

So, Aziraphale stood back and watched, never interfered. He didn’t make his presence known, not letting slip a sliver of grace. He was just another face in the crowd, another fish in the sea, another human in the midst of the ever-growing population.

Crowley never suspected a thing, never paid enough attention to the ocean eyes that followed his every movement, his actions, his life. The demon didn’t notice him, and for the moment, the anonymity was alright with Aziraphale. 

Strange, the angel thought, how he knew everything there was to know about Crowley yet the opposite wasn’t true. But, did he really know everything? He was not omniscient, he couldn’t read minds the way God could, and what a shame that was. 

Aziraphale knew Crowley from an outsider perspective, but he did not know the real Crowley. But he knew more than the usual mortal, and just maybe, that was enough. Maybe.

The anonymity became a tad harder to bear. 

The Guardian Angel stood on the windowsill, wings out for all but Crowley to see. No, Crowley was fast asleep, his chest moving up and down in a slow rhythm and Aziraphale was free to watch, but not to touch, to taste, to feel.

He gingerly let himself in the room, a step, then another until he was right next to the bed. The silk sheet, a mix colour of red and black was soft to the touch, haphazardly thrown across the lanky body and covering up the pale skin, brushed across his legs

He adjusted the blanket, careful not to wake Crowley up. Winter was coming, and despite the fact that demons couldn’t get sick, Aziraphale still gently draped the silk over Crowley fully, watching the demon melted into the warmth. 

_Just this one, maybe._

His hand brushed across the coppery red hair, softer than the sheet. The contact lasted for less of a second, but to Aziraphale, it was so much longer. An eternity. Then he stood back and watched for another until the first ray of sunlight crossed the sky. 

Only then did he turned his back to Crowley and walked away. And how much trust he had, showing his back to a demon. 

But he was not just an angel the same way Crowley was not just a demon, he was a Guardian Angel and Crowley was his Charge, his demon. His.

Anonymity, anonymity, anonymity. Oh, blast it!

Aziraphale let slip just a tiny bit of grace, not so much that it would burn Crowley or even wake the demon up, but enough for now. The sense of it wrapped around Crowley’s sunglasses on the table, and Aziraphale smiled, before finally taking off. 

* * *

As the water gradually heated up, the frog would sink into a tranquil stupor and before long, it would allow itself to be boiled to death with no resistance.

* * *

Crowley had had what he considered the best sleep since forever. There was no sudden chill in the night that woke him up, no Beelzebub bugging – haha – him about paperwork even in his dream, and best of all, none of that morning grogginess! It was like a Christmas miracle!

He sat up straighter in his bed, long lanky limbs tangled in the mess of the blanket as he tried to reach for his sunglasses. Weird, Crowley did not remember leaving the window open and the curtain drawn so that the sunlight could offend him this early in the morning, but oh well. He did not remember a lot of things when he was drunk, tired, or just done with the day. 

The demon slipped on his glasses, shielding his eyes from the light and plunging the room into the dark with a blue tint around the edge. And if the room wasn’t as darkened as it usually was, then he did not notice. 

* * *

However, according to contemporary biologists, this premise was false. A frog that was gradually heated would jump out if it could.

* * *

A sliver of grace around the glasses, always there despite the fact that Crowley changed his glasses every few years. The moment Crowley decided to buy them in bulk and stored them in his house, Aziraphale mentally thank God, before remembering this was too trivial of a thing to drag the lord’s name into.

Then it turned into the light feeling of goodness in the daily outfit, the ridiculous black that Aziraphale usually wouldn’t like fit Crowley liked a glove. It was riskier, to surround Crowley in his angelic presence but to Aziraphale, it was worth it. Let them know Crowley was under his protection, see who would mess with his demon.

And then it turned into him getting nearer and nearer, but not so near. It was just Aziraphale slowly lifted his disguise, letting Crowley knew he was there, somewhere. He was not just a face in the crowd anymore, he was There. And Crowley would know he was there, and the thought made Aziraphale giddy with unexplainable glee.

Watchful eyes turned to the briefest of contact, not exactly skin to skin due to the layers of clothing they had on. And then a split of a second turned into more, and sometimes it was too overwhelming for Aziraphale that he had to stop, to move on, only to come back again the next day.

Crowley noticed.

* * *

Indeed, thermoregulation by changing location was a fundamentally necessary survival strategy for frogs and other ectotherms, including snakes.

* * *

Crowley’s steps quickened, a walk turned into a jog into a full-blown run. He would have unravelled his wings, letting the charred feathers took him to the sky if he was not being surrounded by humans. And by something else. An angel to be more specific.

There was an angel in the same city, here, somewhere. Crowley was, understandably, panicking. 

‘How long have the damn angel — haha — been here?!’ He wondered, taking a sharp left into a small alley where there were no prying eyes. The shadow provided him with the much-needed cover, for him to let his wings out and to shot up to the sky in a flurry of feathers, some moving up with the wind before dropping back down on the ground. 

The wind provided a weird comfort, cold and uncaring as it was but it surrounded him, lifting him up higher and higher. It blew through his long hair, messing the locks up, but the hair was the last thing Crowley cared about right now.

There was an angel, damn it all to hell, why him? Why was he still alive? Why had he not been smitten yet? Was this just a cat and mouse game?

Crowley flew, faster than ever in the years of his existence, until he couldn’t feel his wings anymore. 

Aziraphale followed, this time having half the mind to conceal himself despite not wanting to. It wasn’t about what he wanted anymore, but what Crowley need. And fear and panic were definitely not what that demon need.

Should he remain conceal for the rest of the time then? Aziraphale’s grip on the black feather tightened, and the Guardian Angel sighed. 

He needed help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite surprised about the frog thing tbh, all these years I thought it was true. But nope! So that's your little tidbit (ribbit) of the week. Hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you for all the kudos and comments and for just clicking and reading and I'll see you soon! Ciao!


	3. In which there are popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horsepeople being an absolute mood throughout the whole chapter that started this fic.

War sat in a small tavern, a half-empty cup of some weird cocktail sat in front of her. The red colour glistened in the low light, reminding her fondly of the blood of her enemy. 

“Stop with that thought, dear,” Aziraphale said, twirling his own glass of a far more classical wine of the same colour.

“How do you even know what I’m thinking about Azi?” She shot back, turning around to fully face the Angel. “I don’t know you’re omniscient.”

“Wish I am, but really, you just always do that scary grin when you think about that sort of thing.” He answered, “It’s easier to spot the more I see you do that.”

“Fair.” She downed the rest of the cup, then watched as the content refill itself. “And cheers.”

“You’re welcome.” 

She sat back, contently sipping on the cocktail, now with an added straw and umbrella and watched. War and Aziraphale, they were the most unlikely of pair, yet here they were. They met up every now and then, War being the first to reach out to the Guardian Angel. What could she say, his flaming sword called to her like a moth to the flame. 

What was a tentative agreement where he lent her his sword under the condition that he could summon it back whenever he wanted, turned into a weird friendship that would definitely get awkward when the End came.

But it was not the time for the End yet, no. This meeting was a sudden call, out of the blue, a note next to the flaming sword that somehow didn’t burn to char. 

Well, War had never been one to beat around the bush, she beat people in public so everyone could see the humiliating defeat, so she asked. 

“Why are we here? Not that I don’t enjoy getting with you, you know the best place to get drunk, but why?” 

Aziraphale looked up, an eyebrow curved in amusement. “Best place to get drunk?”

“Nuh-uh, don’t change the topic around me angel boy. Might work with Death and Pestilence, but not me.”

He chuckled, “Worth a try anyway, but yes, back to the topic at hand. I merely want to ask you something, it’s not that big of a deal.”

War leaned forward, the drink was forgotten as her eyes widen. Were she to have cat eyes, the pupils would have turned into too large of a circle that blocked out the rest of the colour. She was interested. “About what? Not every day a Guardian Angel search out War for knowledge. And you, no less.”

“Shush you,” He chided, taking another sip of the wine. “I just, you know more about general interaction than me so it’s only normal that I seek you out.”

“Well, you can’t ask Death, Pestilence or Famine about human interaction, that’s for sure. All of them isolated themselves more than they should.” She chuckled, “Though I heard Pest is thinking of retiring.”

“Really?”

“Hmm, said that they’re done with the job and just want to relax, enjoy life, that kind of stuff. Maybe in a few years, they would be the expert of human interaction among us.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Definitely, but they’re not one yet, you are right now. So — don’t even laugh or I swear to God…”

She laughed, much to his put off face. Aziraphale would never for the life of his admitted that he pouted, but he did. 

“It’s about my charge, my guarded one, whatever you want to call him.” Aziraphale started, his tone suggesting that “what you want to call him better be something flattering or else.” 

“Go on? I heard you’re guarding a demon, of all thing. Merely rumour of course, but care to confirm?” 

“Yeah, the Serpent of Eden to be more exact.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. It, in fact, was. War whistled impressively.

“Fuck I owe them 10 souls. Trouble in paradise?” She guessed, and Aziraphale nodded, a confused look shot at War for the 10 souls part. “What did you do?”

Aziraphale would have been a bit mad that War jumped to the conclusion that it was his fault if the horsewoman wasn’t correct. 

“Scared him off I guess. Pretty sure he’s locking himself up in a new place right now.” War winced. 

“And you did what? Suddenly show all of your wings, eyes, faces and the rest of your weird form? If you did that to me I would run away too.”

“Well, I only showed my presence around him. Shouldn’t he feel protected? Am I doing that bad of a job?” Aziraphale sighed, letting his face dropped on the wooden table. “What am I doing wrong?”

War watched the fool of a Guardian Angel, a hand hesitatingly moved up to pat his shoulder, trying to go for comforting. She had probably patted too hard if the sudden muffled yelp had anything to say.

“Well, think in his shoes. If you’re a demon, and you suddenly feel an angel in your general vicinity, you would run too.”

“B-but I would never hurt him? I’m supposed to be guarding Crowley, not smiting him.”

“But did he know that?”

And then War, with a resigned look, watched as Aziraphale, Guardian Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden and now of the Serpent of Eden, her mentor and friend, suddenly brightened. She resisted the urge to facepalm. 

“Oh god, you’re right! Oh, I’ve been such an idiot, of course!” He spoke fast, like an excited big dog as War sat back and pat herself in the back now that she didn’t trust herself to pat Aziraphale again. 

Death, Famine and Pestilence would love to hear about this, and she had a feeling another betting pool was going to be made soon. She had her money down on at least a week before the Apocalypse.  War looked up at Aziraphale, the angel still going off with the fast rambling. She tried to make sense of the words, realising it was a lost cause, and cleared her throat and caught Aziraphale’s attention instead.

“So, what are you going to do about the demon now?” She asked if only so there were more she could gossip about to her horsefriends. “Not suddenly sneaking up on him I hope, that would not end well.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, then closed it when he heard the last sentence. “Well… uhh...maybe a letter would work? It seemed reasonable enough, right?”

That was very romantic, and endearing, and a very Aziraphale-y thing to do, so War nodded. “Sure, let’s go with that. Don’t go overboard with your poetry waxing, and we’re good!”

She moved to stand up, a hand reached out for the sword next to her. Then she paused at Aziraphale’s too-effective-for-his-own-good puppy eyes and sat down again.

Apparently, she got a letter to coauthor now.

* * *

Crowley looked down at his pillow, or to be more exact, at the letter on his pillow. The envelope was a bland beige colour, standing out against his black pillow, and Crowley was scared.

Who broke into his very carefully warded with sigils and runes room, and left a letter here?

He had been standing there for at least half an hour now, the letter innocently stared at him, daring him to open it. Crowley glared back, the same way he glared at the sky when it rained or the plants when there were spots. Crowley glared at inanimate objects a lot. 

“Oh, fuck it.” The demon muttered, nicely manicured and painted nails reach out for the envelope, snatching it up. A sharp nail made clean work of the opening, the sound echoed in the empty room. “Here goes nothing.”

“Dear Crowley, the Serpent of Eden, the original Temptress, and Charge.” He read, a frown on his face when he reached the last word.

“Hello, hope you’re having a fantastic day! I’m writing to inform you about my miscalculation the other day in Rome when I scared you away. It was not my intention to strike fear in your heart, but the opposite.

I am supposed to be your Guardian Angel, not a harmful threat. My sole objective is to watch over you and shield you from danger, not smiting you on sight. I hope this clears thing up between us, and I can only beg for a chance to make this up for you.

Sincerely, your Guardian Angel,

A.Z Fell

P.s: I go by A. Zira Fell on earth, so maybe referring me to that would be better, in case your fellow demons are watching. But my angelic name is Aziraphale if you’re wondering.”

Crowley put the letter back in its envelope, then placed it on his bedside table. Then, he laid down on his bed, his head where the letter was, and screamed. __

* * *

“Well, that went as best as it could, really,” War commented from her place, the flaming sword being absently twirled in her hand. On her other hand was pieces of popcorn being plucked from Famine’s bag of Normal Popcorn that War had convinced him to buy instead of his own Cornless Corn.

“Could be better, don’t you think?” He asked back, eyeing the Cornful Popcorn with a suspicious look that he always directed at normal food. Let it be known that Famine and normal food didn’t get on well together, obviously. And let it also be known that this was why the horsepeople always buy normal food to these meetups.

“No, this was as best as it could get. I wrote it, so it must be.” War rebutted, throwing her popcorn at Famine, the sickeningly sweet treat stuck on his suit before suit was even invented. 

“You only co-wrote it.” Pestilence pointed out from their place, “The rest was the angel’s work. So, of course, it could get better.” 

Another popcorn was thrown, this time at Pestilence. The horseperson simply caught it flawlessly with their mouth, chewing the sweet. “Thanks for that sweet validation.”

“I hate you, so much,” War grumbled, watching as Crowley finally stopped his screaming and lifted his head up. The demon still had his glasses, those now laid skewed on his face. That, plus the messed up hair made War giggled. 

The three horsepeople continued to watch as the demon stood up, his steps unbalanced and his lanky body swayed left and right, to the point that he had to use the table to support himself up. She never knew just the sheer power of shock could be that powerful, or if the demon was just overreacting. 

Maybe both, War decided, biting down on a hard kernel that refused to be normal like its pear and popped into fluffy bigger corn. 

“Why are we watching this again?” Famine asked, side-eyeing the sound of War brutally murdered the corn kernels. It was weirdly concerning and put fear in his immortal heart. “Not saying that I don’t like watching the idiots pining, but it seemed like we should concentrate on other things, mainly our jobs.”

Pestilence booed from their place. War stuck her tongue out at Famine, being very mature. Famine sighed. If Death were here, they would pat Famine on the back with an understanding look that was somehow expressed on the lifeless skull. But Death were not here, no, the horseperson were doing their job as a good horseperson should.

“NO, I’M NOT.”

Famine sat up quickly, almost knocking the bag of Normal Popcorn. War, despite her absolute refusal to admit this, jumped. Pestilence ate another popcorn, too used to Death’s jump scaring to care.

“I thought you are out working?” Famine asked, after his heart slowed down. Maybe he should get rid of the organ in general...

“IT’S CHILL, I GOT THE MINOR HUMANOID IDEA TO DO MY JOB RIGHT NOW.” Death answered, plopping his skeletal frame down onto the soft seat next to Famine, a hand reaching out for the popcorn. “SO, WHAT ARE WE WATCHING?”

“Aziraphale and his dumb guarded demon figuring it out. Also, we have a betting pool now.” War answered, pointing her sword at the floating board in the back. “Oh yeah, and I owe you 10 souls, he was guarding a demon.” 

“GLAD TO KNOW I’M RIGHT.” Death chuckled, eating the popcorn despite having bone teeth, no tongue, no saliva gland, nor any digestive organs. No one dared to bring this question up. “SO, HOW IT IS GOING BETWEEN THOSE TWO?”

“Hopelessly pining on Aziraphale part, being confused and scared on Crowley’s.” 

“...ONE DAY BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE FOR ME.” 

The floating board at the back obediently marked the date down, next to War’s one week, Pestilence’s 3 months from now, and Famine’s never. These dates showed how hopeful each of them was at the chance of the angel and demon getting together, and spoiler alert, but Pestilence wouldn’t win.  Shame, the horseperson was very much rooting for the pair. If allowed by the rule, they would already float down there and locked Aziraphale and Crowley together in a room until they confessed. 

Death continued eating popcorn through mysterious mean and watched as Crowley dug through his minimal belonging, pulling out a paper and some ink. The demon sat down on his bed, and stared at the blank paper, seemingly trying to think up words. 

“Ooooh! A romance told through letters! This should be fun!” This was, no surprise, from War. She had stood up from the makeshift chair, eyes glinting with glee and sword excitedly being swung around. 

Famine, being too used to the antic, ducked. The flaming sword skirted his suit, and the only reason there was no mark left was because he was a horseperson, their clothing didn’t get ruined. Maybe except Pollution’s clothing, but that was a personal preference.

“Shouldn’t a face to face talk be better?” He asked, dodging left. He was met with three disappointing gazes, and to be honest, Famine was not surprised by this at all. 

“But the drama!” War shot back, “The high and low, the love! Isn’t it exciting?” 

Pestilence nodded in the background, giving a lazy thumbs up. 

Death threw another piece of popcorn into his mouth, chewing. Somehow this action translated to “obviously this is a better idea Famine, honestly? Have you no sense of humour?”

Famine sighed, resigned, and reached for the piece of Cornful Corn. The treat seemed to stare back at him with its buttery coated butter the same way Death stared at him. Famine ate it, chewed, realised he like the sweet quite a lot, and took another one.

Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad, the horseperson thought, watching as Crowley tore his hair out in frustration, the paper still blank. The demon let out another scream, unmuffled this time, that shock the bag of popcorn. 

“Why is it so hard?!” He groaned, throwing the bottle of ink at the wall, miracled it back only to threw it again. “It’s just word, it isn’t supposed to be this hard.” 

War patted herself on the back again, now knowing how great of a writer she was comparing to Crowley. 

“Shouldn’t we help him? Aziraphale had had help after all.” Famine pointed out, his inner scale of justice vibrated in agreement. 

“Not it!”

“Nah, not it.”

“NOT IT.”

Again, three pairs of eyes look at Famine. He ate another Cornful Corn, biting it harder than necessary so that the crunching noise filed the sudden uncomfortable silence. “You can’t be implying–?”

“Well, you were the one that suggested it.” Pestilence started, wiggling their eyebrows at him. “It’s only fair if you’re the one to do it. Plus, what can go wrong?”

Absolutely everything, Famine wanted to say. Instead, he stood up and took the bag of Cornful Corn with him, much to War’s annoyance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pollution is coming, I promise! Not yet, but soon. For now you get the OG 4 eating Cornful Corn. And a lot more letters next update. Also is Death's capital dialogue a bother to anyone? If yes then do tell me, tis an easy fix.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comment, and see you next update! Ciao~!


	4. In which lots of letters are written

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter with too many letters, and thank you for all the support! 
> 
> Sincerely yours, this author who should have updated this days ago but didn't

Dear Crowley,

Hello demon Crowley, this is Famine, one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, writing. Due to how absolutely useless you are, I am writing this letter to help you deal with your own letter.

Consider yourself lucky.

Aziraphale truly meant you no harm, and would absolutely be delighted by any words you write. Really, the angel is still an angel, innocence and harmless (to you.) So don’t be worry, and write something back for God’s sake. You don’t have to write a heartfelt letter, just an acknowledgement would send him to cloud nine. Seriously. 

Though maybe an “It is lovely to be under your protection,” and “Maybe we can meet up sometimes?” would do too.

With hate, The third or second horsemen of the Apocalypse depends on how you see it, Famine

P.s: We would like to be called Horsepeople in general, so expect that to be in my signature.

P.p.s: Write him back fast or else.

P.p.p.s: When you’re done just leave the letter on the windowsill or something like that. The letter would know where to go. 

P.p.p.p.s: Don’t even bother writing back to me.

* * *

~~Dear A.Z Fell, or do you like to be called Aziraphale? Whatever-~~

Dear Guardian Angel mine,

Hey, this is Crowley ~~, though you might already know that. Whatever. This is weird, I don’t think I would ever have a Guardian Angel.~~ So uh, thanks for choosing me to protect I guess. Why though? Not to say I’m not grateful, but why me? Or do you not know and this is Her doing? 

And, write back soon. Might as well get to know my Guardian Angel while I can really.

Sincerely, Crowley. 

* * *

Dear Crowley, the Serpent of Eden, the original Temptress, and Charge,

Good day my dear! I am so glad to get your reply, to be honest, I was thinking you would take the news rather badly after what happened. But as the human said, let bygones be bygones, and I would love to start anew with you. And I do prefer Aziraphale, but to keep up appearance then, you know. 

You are absolutely welcome, and why did I choose you? Well, because I see too much good in you not to protect, and Hell is rather a dreadful place from what I know, it would be a shame if you aren’t protected. So I choose to be your protector! Rather splendid really.

And hmm, you said you want to know more about me. I am Aziraphale, a Guardian Angel. I love reading and collecting books, tea and watching over you. It is, from my understanding, rather impolite to watch over someone 24/7, and that I should ask you if I should continue doing so. But either way, I do have to protect you, so keeping a watchful eye is a must, for your good. 

I, too, would absolutely love to know more about you besides what I have already known. But I imagine despite my knowledge, there are still much more to learn. And I am looking forward to doing so!

Sincerely, your Guardian Angel,

A.Z Fell

* * *

Dear A.Z Fell,

How the fuck did you manage to read the crossed out part? You know what, don’t even answer that, honestly. 

To start, I am NOT nice! I’m a demon, don’t ever use that word and my name in the same sentence again and I will let bygones be bygones.

Also, 24/7, really? Do you watch me in my sleep? Fuck, that is creepy, but at least you ask now, a bit late really. But fine, you have my permission to be a creepy fuck, do whatever. Just try to do it without me knowing you’re doing it. 

Know more? Alright then.

I’m Crowley, full-time demon and part-time Temptress. I like getting absolutely smashed, listening to music, having fun and making fun of the demons in Hell. Also, now that I know I have an actual angel protecting me, you should know that I would antagonise Hastur and Ligur more to the point that they might kill me, so best to keep an eye out for that. 

I don’t even know what you’ve already known about me so that I can tell you something, so yeah.

Also, drop the long titles at the beginning. I thought you want to keep a low profile, you idiot?

Sincerely, Crowley.

* * *

Dear Crowley,

Is that better? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by reading what was crossed out, I would not do that again in the future if that made you feel better. 

And I beg to differ, my dear boy, you’ve done lots of great things during the time I watch you. First and foremost, and actually what initially drawn me to you was what happened with the Noah’s. Saving the kids was a great thing to do, despite going against God’s plan, but She didn’t punish you for that so I think it’s all good. 

Then I followed you along, and I’ve seen you help so many people, mostly children I’ve realised. Do you have a soft spot for little kids? Anyway, I can’t list all of your good deeds in just a letter, but I know that you know what you’ve done, so best not to waste paper. 

If that’s what you want, I will hide my presence when I watch you, dear. One day I do hope I will get to meet you without all of this facade, but it’s alright if you don’t want to. Your comfort and happiness is, of course, first priority on my list.

And I’ve known a lot about you, but only from an outsider perspective. Anything you tell me yourself is worth more than hours of watching, so I am happy that you want to tell me any pieces of information about yourself. 

Sincerely, your Guardian Angel,

A.Z Fell

* * *

Dear Fell, 

Funny, you choose Fell in your name. Ironic much, Guardian Angel mine? I guess I should tell you my full human name now that I’ve known yours, so it’s Anthony J. Crowley. What does the J stand for you might be asking? Just a J really, add a flair to my name. Hastur hated it, so it’s worth keeping the J.

And yes, please don’t read the cross out. It is common sense that crossed out parts are not for prying eyes. But other than that, it’s all fine.

Again, I’m not NICE! It’s me going against God’s plan, so fuck you and her. And I do NOT have a soft spot for kids, they are agents of chaos! Have you seen kids? They are ruthless human. I’m NOT nice.

And maybe, one day.

How are you these days though? And how am I? Are there any threats lurking or have you been thwarting those. I had a thought last night, that my impending lucky streak might be because of you protecting, so thanks about that too.

Sincerely, Crowley.

* * *

Dear Crowley,

I guess it is ironic, a friend of mine suggested that name. I should talk to her about this soon. And I love your name, Anthony Just a J Crowley! I don’t know who Hastur is, but it seems like you hate them, so may I request description to keep him away from you?

And of course dear, you are not nice at all, my apology. You’re the worst demon I’ve seen in my life, cross my heart and hope to die.

I look forward to that day! Just say the word and I’ll be there, perhaps in a restaurant of the sort. I’ve found that human food is exceptionally delicious, and would love to dine with you sometime.

Thank you for asking dear, and I’ve been good, over the moon with each letter you sent. And you are indeed correct my dear boy, many demons and angels alike have been driven away by my flaming sword, and thousand wings and eyes. As usual, it’s no problem, just doing my job!

And how are you dear?

Sincerely, your Guardian Angel,

A.Z Fell

* * *

Dear Fell,

Life’s been good thanks to a certain Angel mine, nothing too exciting. Tempting people here, spreading sins there, the usual.

Not much had been going on, to be honest, been a bit boring over here. Mind lifting your protection up a bit? At least some action would be good for me. You can always interfere if shit goes south anyway.

Also, Hastur is the white-haired dude with a frog on his head. Do you think if someone kisses the frog it would turn into another Hastur? Oh no, cursed thought.

Don’t get too excited now, we’re not planning a date that fast. Though I don’t know that angels eat, weird. What do you even eat? And do you drink? Getting drunk sounds way better, believe me.

But alas, like I said, one day. 

Sincerely, Crowley.

P.s: You said that you like books, so just for future reference, what do you like to read? 

* * *

Dear War,

First of all, why did you give me Fell as my name? I’ve never notice until Crowley pointed it out, but seriously! Fell?

Secondly, help. He said date, ask him on a date, do you think he’s thinking of the same thing as I am thinking? A platonic friendly date or a date date? God, you’re so much better at this than I am.

Other than that, meet up soon? Been a while since I’ve seen you.

Sincerely, Aziraphale.

* * *

Dear Crowley, 

I sure hope you don’t know any other angels beside me dear boy, not that you’re not allowed to make your own friend.

I can always lift my protection on you if that’s what you’d like, but I won’t stop keeping an eye out. As you say, I will step in if it gets too lethal, but I trust you can deal with the demons on your own.

Not all angels like to indulge in the amazing food the human had made, but I have what they called quite a sweet tooth. And yes, I do drink. Mostly wine, I can send you a bottle of you want? 

I like reading historical and lately a new interest, prophecy books. I also collected many version of the bibles, you should see my library one day. You would love it, countless books on countless shelves. 

Do you like reading I wonder? Maybe you can recommend me some names.

Sincerely, your Guardian Angel,

A.Z Fell

* * *

Dear Azi,

Pest and Famine each now owe me 10 souls, thanks for realising it way later than what those two thought you would. Death have the same date as me too if you’re wondering.

I can assure you he is not thinking of a date date. The poor thing is still grappling with the concept of having an actual Guardian Angel, his mind is nowhere near that state yet.

And sure, I’m free this Sunday. Maybe I’m even going to drag Pest with me, they need more sunlight for that pale skin. 

Also, I think Pest had taken up an apprentice of a sort, so you have to help me interrogate them too.

Love, War.

* * *

Dear Fell,

No, I don’t. Most would smite me on first sight, no thank you. And good, I’m not a kid that needs bedtime regulation, you don’t have to worry that much angel.

Yeah sure, let’s see if your taste is good. Send me a bottle or five, Satan knows alcohol is what I need right now.

And I don’t read angel, I’m just asking so that I can get you a gift because you said you like books. I would gladly burn books to make some good s’mores, so there. 

Not burning any of your books though. Not if you don’t want to. 

Sincerely, Crowley.

* * *

My dearest, Crowley,

Hmm, if you don’t read, what do you usually do in your spare time beside spreading evil? I know you have your plants, but what else? I would love to know more!

I sure hope the bottle made it to you without any accident, it’s a particular favourite of mine. Though I’d rather you not getting too drunk, it’s never good for your health. Take care of yourself, Crowley.

Sincerely, your Guardian Angel,

A.Z Fell

* * *

Dear Fell,

Well, you got that right. I do spend most of my time putting the fear of Crowley in my plant, those pesky little green better grow well or else. 

Also, a head’s up, I’m writing this a bit drunk, thanks to you. It’s good wine, very good. Maybe we oughta meet up sooner than I thought, cuz that is some good shit right there.

And it’s sweet that you worried, really, but it’s ok. Imma demon, not a kid. I can take care of myself. Promise.

Anyway, back to meeting up, maybe I oughta push the date up a bit faster. I wanna know what you look like, I bet you’re exactly what I think you look like. I know I will be right, just you see.

Maybe on Sunday?

Sincerely, Crowley.

* * *

Dear War,

Best to push the date back a bit. I’m rather busy this Sunday now, but maybe next week? Awaiting your response.

Sincerely, Aziraphale

* * *

Dear Azi,

Get some! 

With love, the four horsepeople.


	5. In which they met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is bad at stealth, Crowley is bad at dating, everything works out in the end  
> ...  
> kinda(?)

Famine fixed his suit, not noticing the stare from the local at the weird piece of clothing. No, his attention was elsewhere, namely the angel a few tables in front of his own. Beside him, War held up the menu, pretending to read through the items.

Famine knew two things: War had frequent this restaurant enough to list all the items with her eyes close, and War’s attempt at being sneaky was an absolute disaster. 

The horseperson sighed, a hand coming up and signalling for a servant. The faster they order their food, the faster the menu could be taken away from War. Sometimes she didn’t understand that acting normal and blending in was better than...whatever she was doing.

Famine made their order quickly, already knowing what War would have wanted before he turned his eyes over to the reason why they were here. Aziraphale and Crowley, resident idiots and now the horsepeople’s newest hyper fixation. Though to be more accurate, only half of the idiots were here, Crowley was nowhere to be found yet.

He resisted the urge to stand up and walk out of the place. War asked him to be here, and by asked he meant she agreed to let the 10 souls be bygones in exchange for this. While 10 souls weren’t much, Famine was also very petty. 

So he settled back onto the chair and watched as the Guardian Angel fidgeted with his clothing, then hands, then the eating utensils. It was very infuriating to the point that Famine had second-hand nervousness, and he was never nervous. 

“Ugh, where’s he? Crowley should be here a long time ago.” War sighed, now bored without the menu to play with. “Do you think the demon ghost Azi?”

“Aziraphale is 30 minutes early, and we are 20. It has only been 12 minutes since we sat down.” Famine answered, somehow knowing the exact time of everyone’s arrival and the actual date. How? He wouldn’t tell. “Calm down and stop acting like a child War, you’re thousands of years old.”

“Adult can be impatient, just look at Aziraphale.” She shot back, turning over to look at Aziraphale. “He’s the exact opposite of calm right now. Should we help him?”

“We’ve interfered enough as it is War, but I do not object to a miracle. The angel is shaking like your chihuahua.” War actually didn’t have a chihuahua, but if she did, it would shake even more than a normal chihuahua, so Famine considered it a good simile. The horseperson leaned back, fingers tapping on the table as the second-hand nervousness took its course.

“Oh, here he comes. Only 5 minutes early too.” Famine pointed out, and War immediately perked up. 

The two horsepeople watched as Crowley, in some nice looking tunic draped over his thin body and all manners of jewellery on him, stepped in the place. The demon drew everyone attention to him for the same reason everyone looked at Famine when he walked in. The outfit was standing out that much, like Crowley just waltzed in from a different country.

Famine have to admit, the demon had style. 

He turned his gaze over to Aziraphale, a small smile appearing without his permission at the shocked and frankly, worshipping look the angel had on. Aziraphale looked like it was God and not Crowley that had just walked in, and he would do anything to please the demon. Oh wait, he was already doing that, wasn’t he?

War took this chance to watch Crowley more closely instead. Despite the sunglasses, weird choice but she appreciated the aesthetic, War could see how his snake-like eyes shifted, taking in the room. Then those eyes stopped when it saw Aziraphale. 

She didn’t know that snake’s pupils could do that, but the yellow eyes darkened, almost black as the pupils expand, and War assumed it was like human’s eye: expanding when you see something you like. 

She was wrong, for snake’s pupils dilated when it felt a threatening stimuli. And standing right in-front of Aziraphale, an Angel, triggered a demon’s instinct, the fight-or-flight response in Crowley. 

He took a few deep breath, reminding his brain that this was not any angel, no. This was his Guardian Angel, all capital, and Aziraphale would NOT hurt him. If he wanted to, he would have already. After all, the angel had had many chances to simply fling holy water at him, or use the legendary flaming sword to slice him in half. But this was Aziraphale, and so Crowley nervously smiled.

Here goes nothing, the demon thought, walking over to the empty seat opposite to Aziraphale. A table for two, he realised, completed with the flickering candlelight and two glasses of wine. His hand immediately reached for the glass, downing the content. It helped, slightly.

Only when the glass was empty did he look up at Aziraphale. The angel was looking at him intensely, and Crowley averted his eyes under the stare. The demon properly sat down, and re-fill the glass with a snap of a finger. 

“Well –” He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “That was awkward. I didn't mean to do that, really.” 

“It was nothing, really. God knows I might need some liquid courage to get through the night as well.” Aziraphale replied, trying his hardest to keep the awed tone from his voice, and failed. He was a Guardian Angel for God’s sake, act like one Aziraphale!

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers, to us I suppose.”

“To us, to this...arrangement. To whatever comes next.”

They drunk, Crowley downing his glass again and Aziraphale enjoying small sips. Either ways, when the glasses were lowered, there were none of the wine left in them. Crowley merely flagged down a waiter. 

“Well, to be honest, I don’t do social visit much.” He admitted, twirling the glass even when the waiter was trying to pour more of that red red sweetness in. He didn’t like causing that level of evilness Hell wanted, but he very much liked being a minor annoyance. “So, forgive me if everything turns south and I put my foot in my own mouth. Or something like that.”

“Oh, likewise my dear—“ Crowley twitched. It was easier to deal with the word on page that listening to the angelic sound, “I spend most of my time guarding you, so expect the same from me. Most social interaction I get are from a few close friends only.”

“Friends?” He asked, grappling on the hook to continue the conversation.

“Well, friends, associates, one might even say family.” Aziraphale replied, oblivious to the sudden choking sound a few table behind. Famine patted War’s back.

“Your fellow angels I’m guessing?” 

“Oh no, we only get together if we have to! The last meeting we had was all business. Ahajael don’t approve of me choosing you.”

“Obviously.” Crowley said, “I’m a devil, but it’s your choice. Aha something can stick his angelic sword elsewhere!”

“Crowley!”

The demon chuckled at the scandalised tone, noting through the haze that it sounded fonder than a scowl should. “I’m just saying. But who are your friends again?”

“The four horsepeople of the Apocalypse!” Aziraphale said completely calm, as if being friends with those weren’t a big deal.

It was a very big deal.

“You What—?!” Crowley yelled, noticing how that turned every eye in the room at him, and chuckled awkwardly. He repeated the question in a whisper-shout instead.

“What?” Aziraphale asked back, oblivious. 

“You know the four horsepeople! What do you mean what?” 

“Yeah, War introduced me after the deal with the flaming sword.”

Crowley paused, before remembering about the letter. That would...explain a lot. And also it was very embarrassing. Famine sending him a letter made a lot of sense now. 

The demon wondered if his angel knew that Famine did That. Both answers had their own problems.

“Well, enough about the four horsepeople, it’s supposed to be our night.” Crowley once again twitched at the our, and tried his hardest to nod. “How are you dear Crowley?”

“Fine thank you, and you?” He wanted to say. What came out was something akin to “Nggh.” It was the dear Crowley, so familiar on top of the page now spoken aloud.

“Are you ok Crowley?” Aziraphale looked concern now, leaning over the table. The angel’s hand placed on the demon’s own, and Crowley’s logical brain shut down. 

“Nggh!”

Aziraphale frowned, “I’m sorry, is it too much? We can leave if you want?” The hand squeezed Crowley’s own, and now everything shut down. He was not sure if it was the physical contact itself, the close off walls or how a demon should normally react to an angel’s touch.

It was a mix of all. Usually, a demon would burn at the touch of a holier-than-thou angel, but this was a special case given the circumstances.

He managed a nod, before feeling himself being pulled out of his seat and dragged outside. As soon as the cold wind hit his face, messing up his recently cut short hair did he take a big breath, restabilizing himself. 

His hand immediately moved away from the grip in favour of re-styling his look, adjusting and recalibrating. Crowley found that he missed the warmth, just slightly.

The demon sat down on the grass, and seconds later felt Aziraphale sat down next to him. He turned his eyes up to the night sky, the light reflecting on his sunglasses.

“We can stay here if you want?”

“That...would be nice. Sorry for what happened in there.” He said when he was sure his voice wouldn’t shake. “I mess things up again. Satan knows I always do…”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Aziraphale’s hand reached out, before stopping inches above his shoulder. Before the hand could back away he leaned toward, contact formed halfway.

It felt a bit better this time, no more sudden urge to stand up and fly away now that he could. Crowley sighed, enjoying the warmth spreading from Aziraphale’s fingertips. An angel thing he supposed.

“It’s all alright dear, no need to be sorry. If anything I should say sorry, it’s my job to keep you happy after all.”

“It’s your job to keep me safe, you just take it one step further.” He replied, shrugging. “Let’s just stay here for now yeah?”

“That sounds perfect my dear.”

He held back another splutter. It would take some time for him to get used to the nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snake's pupil does do that, so that's your random knowledge for this chap 。。。ミ( ⌐●-●)


	6. An angelic interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter today, an interlude but look on the bright side, the next one would be quite a treat! :D

“Aziraphale.”

“Ahajael.”

Aniel and Albim winced at the cold tone from both of the Guardians. Ahajael huffed, turning his back to Aziraphale. 

“Can we not do this every time?” Aniel, ever the voice of reason, said. She didn’t know how many time had she said it, but she lost count around 1000.

Aziraphale smiled at her, and Aniel knew the blond was trying his best to be civilised. Out of all the Guardians, Aziraphale was one with the most open mind. That was partly why he and her had gotten on so well. 

That also might explained why he choose to guard a demon. 

“I will when our brother over there stops this Tomfoolery!” Ahajael shot back, ever the righteous one. “A demon, honestly! Aziraphale, we’re not kids anymore.”

“God approved of my choice Ahajael.” Aziraphale smugly shot back, a smirk on his face. “If you got a problem take it to Her.”

“Maybe I will.”

Albim sighed beside Aniel. “This happened every time, can you two stop acting so childish? Aziraphale’s choice is approved by our God, let it go Ahajael.”

“I will let it go when he let his demon go.”

“And that will be a never, thank you very much.”

Aniel finished her report, passing it over to Albim who had done his long ago. Aziraphale’s paper sat neatly next to her, cursive letter detailing his deeds of the decade loud and clear. His handwriting was more refine, as if the angel had had much practice over the last few years on earth.

“Ahajael, please. Just finish your report then you can go.” Aniel scowled, watching as Ahajael grumbled but did as she said. “Aziraphale, you’re free to leave. God’s know your demon needs you.”

Aziraphale put up a half-hearted protest, but Aniel could tell he wanted to go and this was merely polite. 

“Well then, good bye Aniel, Albim.” He nodded at the two of them, and his wings ruffled at Ahajael’s face, quite a rude gesture. Albim snickered. 

“See you next year.” 

“Bye brother.”

Aniel fondly watched as Aziraphale’s wings opened, and her brother took a dive out of cloud nine, back to earth. How weird that he favoured two, but understandable. Ahajael prefer all of his wings out and about, Albim usually had four and she never showed her wings. She simply float. 

“Why are you putting up with him sister?” Ahajael asked when he was sure Aziraphale was well away hearing distance. 

“There’s no reason to act hostile toward Aziraphale.” Aniel said, ever the libra. “He and his demon lately are peek balance. They resonate well.”

“And God approved, so I don’t see why we have to question her decision. Let Aziraphale alone Ahajael.” Albim said, gathering up all the paperwork. Since that was invented, all of the Guardians had thought this was simply the worst thing ever.

“But he’s guarding a demon! A demon for God’s sake! Our job is to smite them, not protect them.”

“Drop it.” 

He did. It was foolish to try and go against Albim when the other Guardian was this serious. While they were more powerful than a normal angel, he still got nothing on Albim the same way he got nothing on Aniel. Ahajael was not sure about Aziraphale though, they had never spare before. 

Aniel shrugged, standing up properly and flexing her ocean blue wings. “Well, it was fun. I have to get back to my human now.”

“Same here, bye brother and sister.”

Ahajael nodded, flying off too. He only wished the next yearly meeting come later than normal. 

Aziraphale had the same thought, but the only difference was that he was downing it in alcohol. The Guardian Angel was currently sandwiched between War and Pestilence, and on the other side was Famine and Crowley.

The demon was convinced to go with their outing, and a small relief for Crowley was not meeting Death in this small bar. The last horseperson was actually doing his job now. Crowley thanked whoever it was who was dying right now. 

“I hate him so much.” Aziraphale said, and War nodded in agreement. Aziraphale was not the only one she had approached about the flaming sword issue, she had gone for Aniel first, Ahajael next and then Aziraphale. 

Aniel had politely refused, saying the sword was her balance, and she would hate to give it up. War nodded, knowing how Famine was very fussy about his scale too. They parted on neutral term, as a libra wanted.

Ahajael tried to slay her on sight. War didn’t even bother.

Aziraphale asked her inside and offer tea, then bust open a bottle of wine when she said she want something stronger after what happen with the other angel. They talked, and when she left a sword was nicely strapped beside her hips. 

“Who again?” Crowley whispered to Famine, not wanting to interrupt his angel’s vent. “What’s going on?”

Famine sighed. “Ahajael, fellow Guardian Angel. Hates Aziraphale for choosing to guard you.”

“Oh…” He turned back to his drink. 

“Don’t be so sad demon, it’s Aziraphale choice, not your fault.” Famine continued, noting the tone of voice right away. Crowley huffed. The horseperson was too observant for his own good really.

“Yeah, don’t listen to Ahajael, he will get over it soon. We just need to drill it in his head that God allow you to do this and we’re done.” Pestilence spoke up, a small smile on his pale face. “And everyone will go on their way happy.”

“We’ve been telling him so many time already.” Aziraphale’s words were slurred, made worse from being muffled when he leaned on War’s shoulder. Crowley wished he was War right now, and War knew it. She sent him a smirk.

Pestilence shrugged. “Well, the other two are on your side at least, that and God too. Though God is impartial so I don’t think She counts.” 

“She definitely does not count.” Crowley agreed to no one surprise. He was the damned one here after all. “Fuck Her.”

War grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Cheers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Please do feed me with kudos and comments, and boy would I love to chat with more people!
> 
> Some tidbits from this chapter that I spent a bit too long on for no reason:  
> \+ Albim - the angel who guards the gate of the North Wind.  
> \+ Aniel - One of the angelic guards of the gates of the West Wind and angel of the Zodiac sign of Libra - September 24 to October 23rd  
> \+ Ahajael - The angel who protects the magician from evil spirits during ceremonies of invokation. The angel is from the Islamic tradition. They're not a guard, but because I love alliteration so they're in here too.


End file.
